Chapter 8

IT WASN'T Acommon occurrence for Nero to reflect on the sheer luck of being born into the cushy privilege of crown princedom, but each year as the servants in the castle scrambled to prepare for the annual jousting tournament, he found himself giving a private moment of thanks. The stadium, huge with levels of seating to accommodate both the aristocrats and commoners who would attend, would be cleaned and scrubbed until it gleamed in the midday sun, and adorned with appropriately joyous decoration, the amount of which would all be dependent on Beritz' whim.

A few days before the event, the knights that were registered to participate would begin arriving to the castle. Their horses would need to be stabled and tended for, their armor and lances checked for any discrepancies. The kitchens would scramble to feed all the additional mouths, the maid staff churning out fresh laundry and bedding at an insane rate of pace. And then, even more still as the nobles from neighboring kingdoms arrived to watch the contest, though most would only arrive the day before, staying just one night.

It was a pleasant arrangement for the castle city, as the tourists would often visit restaurants and shops, pumping money into the local economy, and many vendors would have souvenirs specially made for the ordeal. Nero, not for the first time, wondered if he would have the sheer patience to continue on the chaotic tradition once he was king, or if he'd let it fade into an obscure memory once his father was too old to orchestrate it. The thought gave him a twinge of guilt, but at the same time, the sheer amount of work required to run it smoothly made him shudder a little.

He was alright at the diplomatic parts, he reminded himself, lounging on a padded seat in the luxury box that sat up high over the other seats of the arena as the employees around him scrambled to polish the glass and gather the rugs to beat dust from. He could talk his way in and out of most situations, could listen to opposing viewpoints and try to find a center-point between them to keep everyone as happy as possible. But when it came to organization, the lists and lists of tedious tasks might as well have been written in a foreign language.

"Tanjer," he beckoned to one of the uniformed men, crooking his finger when the servant turned. He was young, only a few years the prince's senior, but he'd begun working in the castle as a young teenager, so Nero knew him fairly well.

"Yes, your Highness?" He gave a small bow, regarding the prince with attentive eyes.

"I need a favor from you."

"Ah, now?" He asked, glancing behind himself at his clambering coworkers.

"I'm afraid so." Digging out a folded sheet he'd torn from a catalog, Nero pointed to it as he explained the task he needed done. Tanjer gave a slow nod as he took the paper and tucked it into his own pocket. "Don't worry," Nero assured him. "It shouldn't take more than an hour or so, and then you'll be back to scrubbing toilets or whatever it is my dad has you doing."

Exhaling a bit from his nose, Tanjer resisted the urge to grin. "Yes, your Highness."

"Just drop it off to me in my room when you're done."

Tanjer gave another small bow before scurrying off, privately eager to abandon the cleaning duties, if only for an hour or two. Satisfied that everything had gone so smoothly, and confident that the young man would follow his directions to the letter, Nero settled back in the chair, letting his eyes close for a moment. This was the easy part, anyway. The hard part would be getting the stubborn little noble to actually accept the gift. But even if he said no initially, and Nero imagined he would, he'd probably get that very particular look in his pretty eyes, and that rose-tinted blush blooming across his pretty cheeks. Which would make whatever argument he'd have to prepare and present altogether worth it.

"Poaching my workers to cater to your whims, are you?"

Startled by his father's voice so close to his ear, Nero jumped a bit. To be such a large man, Beritz was surprisingly light and graceful on his feet. It was certainly not the first time he'd been standing quietly by, watching and pondering the actions of the prince.

"You've got pretty much every servant in the castle allocated to one thing or another," Nero pointed out. "And I needed something from the city. I can't very well ride out and get it myself at the moment. Unless you want me pulling some of the Royal Guard to accompany me." Tourists had already begun swamping in, crowding the streets and shops and inns. Though the nobles would have a place to stay in the castle, any commoners coming in from out of town would have to find their own lodging.

"Fair point." The king gave a nod, but raised an eyebrow. "I'm doubtful that it couldn't wait until my preparations are complete, though."

"Something for March," Nero replied, knowing those would be the magic words to alleviate his father's irritation.

"Oh?" As Nero had expected, Beritz' voice took on a slightly higher tone as he sat down across from his son. "A gift?"

"Yes."

"Something thoughtful, I hope."

"Well, I had the thought to buy it, if that counts."

"You won't tell me what it is?"

"I'd rather not jinx myself talking about it before I even get a chance to show it to him," Nero answered, running his tongue over his teeth. "At any rate, he's likely to throw it back in my face anyway, so curb your celebrations."

"Having problems, are you?" Beritz asked, lightly smirking under his dancing eyes.

"Only if you consider it a problem that he despises the ground I walk on."

"And I'm sure you didn't do a single thing to cause that."

Swearing under his breath, Nero heaved out a sigh. "You're always so quick to blame me for everything. Have you considered that you've chosen to shackle me to someone who would rather swallow glass than allow me to charm him in any reasonable manner?"

Dragging his ankle up to rest on his other thigh, Beritz thought for a moment before responding. "Nero, my dear boy. Let me ask you a question. All those pretty boys and girls you've screwed around with, why haven't you settled down with any of them?"

Nero gave a derisive snort, shifting in his seat a little. Finally, a question he could easily and confidently answer. "Not because I couldn't if I'd wanted to. Most of them would have died of sheer joy if I'd asked to actually court them. As unbelievable as it must seem to you watching me fumble around like a moron with March, I assure you I'm generally pretty good at this sort of thing."

"Of course," Beritz agreed coolly, hoping the idiot prince would connect the ideas in his brain without too much explanation on his end. "So you could have courted any of them, but you didn't want to."

"More or less," Nero agreed with a light shrug.

"Why didn't you want to?"

"I…" Trailing off, the prince frowned a bit. "Why would I have?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Because," Nero insisted, though he found himself struggling to articulate his thoughts on the matter. "I mean, I did what I wanted to do. And for the record, I don't leave a trail of broken hearts bleeding behind me. I got what I wanted, and they were happy to do it, and then I was finished with them. It's not as cold as it sounds. It's a mutually beneficial sort of arrangement."

"In other words," Beritz said carefully, giving his son a level look. "It's something that's usually very easy for you. No challenge in it."

"Essentially."

"And March is putting up a fight."

"What's your point?"

Considering it quite an achievement not to sigh over his dearly beloved child's shallow brain capacity, Beritz decided to shift tactics and use a metaphor he was sure the prince could relate to. "You know the hunting trips we go on sometimes?"

"What about them?" Nero asked, confused why Beritz would bring up the yearly vacation they would take to a manor they owned in a far-off mountain range.

"Remember how satisfying it felt to take down a buck? Or to catch a fish? To accomplish those things through your own effort and merit?"

Finally understanding what his father was implying, Nero felt his eyes narrow. "March isn't a fish or a deer for me to take down. He's a human being with his own thoughts and feelings."

Surprised by the defensive tone in the prince's voice, Beritz felt a grin spread across his face. "Ah, my mistake. Perhaps a poor analogy on my part." But his apology dripped with smugness at the obvious way Nero's words had betrayed his true feelings for the fair-faced noble.

Shaking his head and understanding all too well now that he'd been led into this conversation like a dog on a leash, Nero rolled his eyes. "Are you happy now? Do you feel like you've tricked me into admitting something?"

"Just find it interesting to see you actually making an effort for once."

"I'm just doing what you asked me to, nothing more. So if your head is starting to dance with visions of grandchildren with colorful eyes, you can forget it."

Though it was obvious to Beritz that there was more to the situation than Nero was letting on, he simply gave a nod. "Merely commenting on the effort you're making. I'm pleased with the effort you're putting into what I've asked of you. I won't start knitting booties for my future grandchildren just yet."

Annoyed now with the entire conversation, Nero crossed his arms over his chest. "Anyway, if you really wanted to actually help anything, you'd be talking to him, not me. He's the one avoiding me and making it difficult."

At the king's questioning look, Nero explained the entire situation with the baby dragon in the forest, and how March's embarrassment had him hiding out in his room for the better part of the week.

Rubbing a hand over his beard, Beritz tilted his head as he considered his son's words. "It's a delicate situation," he agreed. "Even I can tell he's not the sort to suffer embarrassment with any kind of stoicism." At Nero's snort, the king went on. "Well, all I can say is all's fair in love and war."

"Very helpful," Nero replied wryly.

"To put it more clearly, try thinking of a way to force him out to talk to you."

"I can't force him to do anything. If I say the sky is a lovely shade of blue today, he'd call it green to spite me."

Nodding sagely, Beritz gave his son a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "You should know him well enough by now to know what sort of offer to make him that he can't, or won't, refuse."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nero asked, watching his father rise from the seat across from him, presumably ready to get back into the thick of preparations for the jousting contest.

"You'll think of something," Beritz promised him. "I have complete faith in you."

"A CHALLENGE?" MARCHrepeated the words back to Nero with obvious disdain and a hint of amusement. With his bow still held firmly in his deft fingers, the pretty noble rested his hand on his hip, body language reflecting his impatience with the silly suggestion. "You actually think you can beat me in an archery contest?"

"I don't know," Nero admitted, blinking innocently. "I've never seen you shoot."

The tranquility of his morning routine irreparably shattered by Nero's arrival to the archery range so early in the morning, the one time March was usually sure he'd be safe from the prince's presence, had taken him by surprise. And not a pleasant one.

"As I've told you, I'm nationally ranked," March reminded him flatly. "You don't have a hope of matching me when it comes to this."

"Then you've got nothing to worry about, right?"

"If you know you can't beat me, then why bother challenging me?"

"Maybe I just thought it'd be fun. Is that a crime?"

"Fine." Weary of arguing, March waved a hand toward the targets. "Name your challenge so we can get this over with and I can move on with my day."

"The challenge is simple," Nero started, lazily making his way down the range to pull three targets into a row together. "Whichever of us can get the closest to the center of each target in three arrows wins." Glancing back up at March, he noted the raven-haired male's tense stance, and the way he gripped his elegant rose-toned bow purposefully in his hand. "You look like you're ready to send one of those through my heart."

"If I had a mind to shoot you, I'd aim a bit lower," March responded dryly, privately enjoying Nero's wince. "Anything else I should know about this game you've come up with?"

"What do you want if you win?" Nero asked, joining him back behind a stark white line. "And don't say you want me to leave you alone, because you know I can't."

"How should I know what I want? You haven't given me any time to think about it."

"You know what? Don't think too hard about it. I'm going to win anyway, so I'll just say what I want."

Barking out an amazed laugh, March shook his head. "Have you ever even shot an arrow before?"

"Nope. Anyway, when I win, I want you to ride Perrin with me, up to the mountains in the enclosure. There's something I want to show you there."

"So your prize would involve putting my life at risk."

"You won't be in any danger, I promise you. Like I told you before, I'll hold on to you really tightly. I'm a very experienced rider, you know."

Determined not to react to the very obvious double meaning, March only notched an arrow, keeping his eyes locked to the leftmost target.

Raising an eyebrow with interest, the prince let himself drink in the sight of the noble's lean muscles contracting, tension rippling down his veritably perfect form as he aimed. "Are you aware of how incredibly sexy you are while you're doing that?"

Taken aback, March lowered his bow, glaring through the heat that suffused his face. "Your depravity truly has no bounds. Is this how you plan on winning? By trying to distract me?"

"Trying?" Nero repeated, smirking. "Are you finding me distracting?"

"Not remotely. To be frank, I could be blindfolded and still shoot with more accuracy than you."

"Be careful," Nero warned lightly. "Or I might hold you to that."

With a haughty sort of sniff, March raised his bow again, focusing on the first target. It wasn't very far, and the targets were fairly large. The kind of shot he'd been able to bullseye since he was 12. The first arrow flew from his bowstring, hitting dead center. Not seeing a reason to celebrate or delay the inevitable, he notched the second and sent it soaring into the center of the middle target.

"Wow, you're really good at this," Nero noted, honestly impressed. "Not that I was doubtful of your skills or anything."

Torn between exasperation and finding the earnest tone endearing, March only gave a light shake of his head before notching his third arrow. Raising his bow, he pulled it back until the string quivered lightly with tension. Just as he readied to release it, Nero leaned in from behind him, speaking in a low tone so close to his ear he could feel the prince's warm breath sliding across his skin, leaving a spray of goosebumps where it caressed.

"I have to admit, sweetheart, I've never been jealous of a plank of painted wood before now."

Jerking a bit, March's fingers fumbled as the arrow was released from his bow. It hit the target, though several inches away from the small blue dot in the center. Whirling around to face Nero, he couldn't help the impatient, mortally offended huff that escaped him.

"You did that on purpose."

Struggling to suppress the grin he could feel tugging at the corner of his mouth, Nero coughed into his hand. "All's fair in love and war, right?"

Annoyed already by the underhanded tactics, March internally cursed himself for his obviously flustered reaction. "Regardless, you'll basically have to make three perfect shots to beat me, so good luck."

"I appreciate your sportsmanship."

Jerking his chin up, the noble stalked off to the targets, yanking his arrows from them, shoving them into the prince's hands when he returned.

"Where's your bow?" He realized suddenly. "You're deranged if you think I'm letting you shoot mine. You'd probably snap the string on your first shot."

"I don't need it," Nero assured him, twirling one of the arrows in his fingers for a moment. March's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but before he could question further, the prince began striding back over toward the targets.

A rather arrogant stride, in March's opinion. He watched, bemused, with a bit of a sinking feeling in his stomach as the cocky male pressed an arrow directly into the midpoint of each.

"Well?" Nero called out, gesturing to the painted targets with a dramatic flourish.

With a light groan, March pressed his fingers into his closed eyes. He'd already replayed Nero's explanation of the challenge in his mind, and was acutely aware of where he'd gone wrong.

"Don't bother explaining, I already figured out your stupid little trick," March admitted, irked.

The taste of victory darkly sweet in his mouth, Nero hoped his expression wouldn't rub it in too much as he sauntered back over. "So you're admitting my victory is valid, then?"

Sighing, the noble waved his hand in a gesture of acceptance. "I was naive to think you'd waste any opportunity to embarrass me."

"Instead of interpreting it like that, try to think of it like there was something I really wanted you to do, and I couldn't think of any other way to get you to do it."

Slightly unnerved by the honesty in the prince's voice, March felt an odd tingle wash over him, concentrating in the area of his neck Nero had whispered into. "Fine. I don't have a right to complain anyway, since I agreed to it."

"I imagine you'll have a hard time believing me, but I think you're actually going to like this. As long as you aren't too freaked out about riding on Perrin."

"You want to go now?"

Detecting the obvious note of fear in the pretty noble's soft voice, Nero ran his hand through his thick locks of streaky hair and tried to look as non-threatening as possible. "Like I said before, my dad would probably crucify me if I let anything bad happen to you, so don't worry. You won't be in any actual danger, I swear."

Grimacing, March wrinkled his nose as he imagined plummeting to his death from the back of a dragon. "Neroki…"

"Don't make me say the predictable lines to try and goad you into it. Just say yes. You'll like it." When the raven-haired male didn't answer, Nero blew out a breath. "Trust me, March. Please."

"Fine. But if anything ends up happening, I swear I'll come back as a ghost and haunt you."

Nero grinned. "Deal. So first things first, we need to dress warm, because it's still snowing up there."